


A Painful Truth

by Kyni, OrphielBurrito



Series: Of time and universes [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fix-it fic, Horror, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyni/pseuds/Kyni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrphielBurrito/pseuds/OrphielBurrito
Summary: As time progresses, the Doctor's behaviour gets increasingly odd - but they're not the only one who's changing. At the crossroads, who can say who is evil and who isn't ?Of time and universes, pt. 4





	1. Running away

The Doctor had escaped right after the kiss. Of course they had. No one was surprised by their latest display of cowardice, not even the Master, who made the wise decision not to chase after them immediately. They kept an eye on him from afar whenever they thought of doing so, ensuring that he wouldn't do anything too reckless. He was behaving. Maybe all the chats about watching the universe instead of owning it had worked... or maybe he was planning something. The Doctor wasn't one to make guesses.

Adventures were the easy way to forget, to think about anything other than that kiss. The kiss, the rage suddenly shared and appeased, the pressure of the Master's arms around their body, the texture of the stubble on his cheeks, the way he had reluctantly let them go. Every single time they closed their eyes, they felt this connection that they had almost forgotten after years and centuries of being the only one of their kind... but it was wrong. All wrong. They had to forget again.

So they went to a thermal planet invaded by alien octopi who developed from bacteria in the water and turned into flesh eating monsters. Saving the world then getting a spa day ? That had to be the absolute best thing that could ever happen. Then there was this scientific base in Russia, 2052, invaded by the same Martian plague that had taken over the Bowie base, only more evolved. They had to handle the pest control, which resulted in a lot of explosions and more dead than they could count. Casualties were hard to avoid – but a few scientists were still better than the whole human race, weren't they ?

There were also these haunted dolls in a village deep in the French Pyrénées. Creepy as hell but immensely fun. Humans had such odd ideas sometimes – who else could have thought of making their deads into life-sized dolls instead of burying them ? The Doctor was still quite upset at how long it had taken them to figure out what was happening, given that the lack of cemetary was glaringly obvious. Oh, well. At least the village hadn't been destroyed by the deceased. Not entirely.

It took a good fifty years before the Master contacted them again. The message was simple and did not leave an opportunity for refusal : spatial and temporal coordinates, and a very clear “come now”.

Well, that was less original than a diva singing a song... but fifty years was probably enough to digest a single kiss.

 


	2. Can you hear me ?

_\- Lucky ? Lucky, why aren't you answering ?_

The Doctor's ship was trying her best to contact her friend through every communication channel she could think of but there was no reply. None at all. She couldn't even feel him. That was abnormal.

The Doctor wasn't reacting. She was trying to warn them that something was off but they weren't listening, dismissing her concerns with a wave of the hand. It could all have been a trap. Knowing the Master, it probably _was_. How could they trust him ? She knew they had kissed him. She could see it in their thoughts, see how the memory of it was haunting them. And yet, there were other things, other things she couldn't quite read or define – and things that were absent. Things that should have been there. They didn't seem too concerned with the Master's state, for one, and that was unusual for someone as keen on saving the world whether the world liked it or not.

_\- Lucky, please answer me. Something's not right. Lucky. Lucky. Master ? Can someone HEAR ME ?_

As the Doctor's TARDIS was yelling into the void, the Doctor inched closer to their next appointment with the Master.

 


	3. Not all that glitter is gold

The planet seemed deserted, at least where they landed. Deserted, aside from the Master's ship – empty.

The Doctor frowned and entered the ship which didn't offer any resistance. Apparently, the Master had unplugged every single communication device and a few other things in a fit of rage to punish Lucky for whatever he had done that had displeased his owner. Rolling their eyes, the Doctor did their best to plug back everything in its rightful place, silently hoping that they wouldn't do anything bad enough to provoke more anger from their friend.

Lucky's holographic form appeared at the very second every cable had returned to its rightful place. The two-dimensional face wore an expression of intense worry and his voice was trying its best to express his fear.

“Doctor, they took him. They took the Master.

\- Who did ? What did ?

\- Cybermen.”

Of _course_ it had to be Cybermen.

“Tell me you're kidding. And if you're not, tell me where they were headed.

\- I am not kidding... they took the Master. They want him to take charge... I didn't understand what they wanted...I just know they took him to the big city down the hill. He had a vortex manipulator with him but never came back.

\- To take charge ? Oh, he must be the happiest creature in the whole world... I'm going to murder him, I swear.”

They ran off without listening to Lucky's plea for mercy. The Master taking over the Cybermen was not something that the Doctor was willing to let happen. If it meant killing him yet again, they would. In the blink of an eye.

They rolled their sleeves up their elbows and fumbled in their pockets. Bubblemaker ? No, not that – the main purpose of that thing was to annoy everyone and give them time to think about an appropriate answer. Candy ? A watch that hadn't worked in decades ? A set of keys leading to the Other knew where ? Dammit, where was this screwdriver when they needed it ?

They finally found it deep in their pocket, buried underneath a large pile of biscuits that had seen better days. The TARDIS had built a new one, more adapted to their current taste. Twisty, with ultraviolet light, its sound much more discrete. That would be useful against giant tin cans.

The Master's location was rather easy to figure out. There was a palace in the very middle of the city, all glistening with golden towers and marble walls. Of course he would have settled in such a place – heavily guarded with Cybermen, of course. Luckily, Cybermen had the massive flaw of still being quite a bit stupid. Stupid enough not to look up.

Climbing marble walls was something that most people had never tried and for good reason. The damn thing was slippery and definitely not appropriate for such an experience. They had not planned for this specific event but marble was an ordinary enough material that it could be dealt with... At least for a while. They hoped the Master hadn't decided to settle in the highest tower.

“ _I am too old for this,_ ” grunted the Doctor as they progressed along the slippery walls. Rubber. Good thing they had kept rubber gloves in their pockets for... situations. They didn't know exactly what kind of situations and felt like they could have found something more dignified than bright pink rubber gloves but at least it worked. Somewhat. Enough for them to reach the first tower without dying.

They could hear the mechanical walk of Cybermen all around them. The place was swarmed with the creatures. Getting to the Master wouldn't be the easiest feat of their long life but then again, they had never been one for _easy_.

A solid two hours of climbing later and their annoyance significantly higher than it had been when they had left Lucky, the Doctor reached the room where the Master operated.

He was plugged in the Cybercontroller through an infinity of cables and giving order in a mechanical voice. _Humans will be converted_ , the usual spiel. They couldn't help but roll their eyes as they leaned against the nearest wall, still wearing their ridiculous pink gloves.

“You absolute _moron_. You're not even on a mainly human planet.

\- There is a human colony on this planet. Humans are compatible. Humans will be converted. They are strangers on this planet. Aphatons dislike them. They won't be missed. Humans will be converted and the Cybermen will begin to spread again.”

His voice was... not quite his own. His tone more than anything betrayed how wrong this all was. He was leading the Cybermen, yes, but he was under their control. At least his vitals seemed to be normal... which, in itself, was a rather odd observation. After fifty years of decaying, he should have been mostly dead. How long had the Cybermen kept him alive for their usual purpose of domination ? And more importantly, how did they do it ?

It was clear that the Cybermen needed the Master's mind. His evil, brilliant mind. Well, _tough_.

“You can't interfere, Doctor. If you interfere, you will be converted too.”

The Doctor replied to the Master's warning with a laugh and a bizarre light shining in their pale eyes.

“Let them _try_.”

 


	4. Weaknesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the Doctor overestimates their own abilities and traps happen.

The Master had sounded the alarm. Someone was getting in a lot of trouble when the Doctor would be done saving the world again.

They ran through the corridor, doing their best to avoid Cybermen's shots. Their aim wasn't too precise and the Doctor rejoiced again about their new size – small, slender, _fast_. They weren't easy to catch. Besides, the tin cans were slow, they had always been, with their ridiculous military marches.

It was out of sheer luck – or maybe a good knowledge of Cybermen – that they found the room that contained the converters but a second before they could lock the door on the creatures, a single shot got them in the leg. Growling in pain, they let themself fall to the ground, assessing the extent of the damage. Their jeans were badly burnt their flesh had definitely looked better but they would survive. At least for a while.

“Got to the converting room, Master. I told you I was brilliant.

\- We caught you, Doctor,” replied the Master over an intercom system that resonated everywhere and made his voice bounce against the marble walls.

“Technically, I locked you away, so really _I_ caught you.

\- But as you can see for yourself, the converters are empty.”

The realization dawned on them a second before the Master spoke. They were empty. All of them. They could still try to reverse the conversion process, nevermind how painful that was, but this wasn't normal. There should still have been people in the converters, the whole planet hadn't been _upgraded_ yet. Something was terribly wrong.

“Do you get it, Doctor ? There was never anyone in there.

\- What about you, hm ?

\- I was converted elsewhere. I am bait. They want you. And now they got you.”

Clearly the Master wasn't himself. He would never have admitted being bait otherwise.

“Oh... that's too bad. Well, I suppose it's very inconvenient for me to be locked in a room with Cybermen on the other side of the door and no way to escape, hm ?”

They grinned at these words, hoping the Master could see them through some monitors as they waved their left arm in the air. Their left arm, equipped with the vortex manipulator that he had taken away with him on his trip to the city. The vortex manipulator that the Doctor had stolen from him during their talk. In other circumstances, the Master would have wondered how they had managed to steal it without him noticing and might even have admired the skill – but the Master wasn't quite himself.

“See you in hell, my dear,” the Doctor smirked before disappearing.

  
  


“ _Why are you alone, Doctor ?”_ asked Lucky in the most worried tone he could conjure.

The Doctor didn't reply right away, trying to brush the dust off their clothes and the dizziness off their mind. Vortex manipulators were such a primitive technology. The Master certainly had something in his mind when he chose to use that antiquity but it was not comfort.

“I am alone because it was a trap. Scan the surroundings for Cybertech. I am going to revert the conversion and boy, will he hear about this.”

The scan didn't take too long. Both TARDISes soon came up with the conclusion that there was a Cybership in close orbit, watching over the marble city down the hill. Well, at least the next stop was fairly obvious.

  
  


They landed in the ship as the very moment the Master teleported there. Now _that_ was classy technology. _That_ was worthy of being used. Not silly vortex manipulators.

“What are you trying to do, Doctor ?

\- You know, I have a thing for people who aren't robots. Well, except maybe that one time... But not you. I prefer your usual you – and I prefer it when you can be aware of the fact that I'm kicking your arse.

\- Do you really think you can revert me ?

\- I can do anything, my dear, especially to you.”

They grinned and jumped away from the Master's sight, looking desperately for any source of energy. From what they had seen, there were already hundreds of Cybermen down there, maybe thousands. This had to require a lot of power for the converters and if they only could change the flow...  _reverse the polarization of the neutron flow_ ... 

“Why don't you let the Cybermen convert you ?

\- Why is a raven like a writing desk ?” The Doctor shrugged and danced away to a console. Ha ! Here it was. Now it was only a matter of breaking into the matrix of the Cybercontroller. Easy.

“Emotions are a weakness. They shall destroy you.

\- Emotions ? Only fools could think they're weaknesses. You see, right now I feel angry, betrayed and excited because it's all rather fun, which means I'm approximately at one hundred and fourty two percent of my usual efficiency, which makes me...”

They pulled a lever and gave the Master their cheekiest grin as he screamed in terrible pain.

“... A sheer genius.”

  
  


 


	5. Not so fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was too easy, wasn't it ? Well, the Master has some bad news...

The Doctor had strapped the vortex manipulator to the Master's arm and set the coordinates to where his TARDIS was. When their ship materialized back on the hill, they found their nemesis curled up on the floor, his head bleeding from hitting Lucky's door, and still falling prey to a terrible migraine.

“You deserved that,” observed the Doctor. “Including the bleeding.

\- Oh, shut up... I had something to tell you... Damn, couldn't you set the coordinates a bit more precisely ?!

\- As I said : you deserved that.

\- Can you shut up for just one minute and let me think ? Ah... yes. The whole planet has been converted...

\- And I reverted the process. You're here and alive.”

Their voice was colder than an iceberg – but the Master didn't have the energy to care.

“No – you're not getting it. The minds were converted. Not the bodies. That's why there's never been anyone in the converters.”

It suddenly dawned on them.

The multiple Cybermen on the planet weren't converted ones, they were the ones who arrived with the ship. The rest of the inhabitants looked perfectly normal... but they weren't. They all had a Cyberman in their mind. And the controller – what was left of it after the Master's departure – could switch them on at will. Their little feat of “sheer genius” had all been for nothing.

“If they're in people's minds... they're in yours too.

\- No. I'm not the same. I'm the one who did it.

_\- You did what ?”_

From the Master's point of view, the coldness of their voice and the immense calm of their tone were worse than any burning anger. But it didn't matter. There was no time.

“I helped the cybermen figure out how to fool you. They implanted a chip that erases emotions and converts your mind into a cyberman one... fact is... those people would react the same as Cybermen, but they don't have a metal armour. I think that may be ugly... I didn't realise then, I was already converted and I didn't care. Not that I care more right now but it will be ugly.”

The Doctor got dangerously close to him too fast for the Master to even see their movements. There was so much fire in them, a fire he hadn't seen much since they had met again... But it wasn't quite right. Again.

“Once this is over, you're dead to me,” spoke the Doctor in a quiet voice. “Guide me to the control center. And when it's done, you'd better run. Because either the Cybermen win or I do, and right now I can't tell which one will hurt you more.”

 


	6. Happy endings... ?

Despite his clearly critical state, the Master had led them to the entrance to the control center. The Cybercontroller he had been connected to wasn't the main center of control – but then, who was controlling the real one ? Too many questions. Too much anger. The Doctor wasn't capable of thinking in depth about the details, not at present.

Their leg was hurting. They would have to take care of that soon.

The controller was at the center of a maze of sewers, according to the Master. He had given them enough information to allow them to find it and that was suspicious in and of itself... but encountering no resistance at all was even worse. There should have been Cybermen roaming these corridors, traps, defense systems. Unless someone wanted them to find the control room.

But much to their surprise, they weren't the first person to arrive. The Master was already there, talking as if he were still a Cyberman to distract the real Cybercontroller while pulling out handfuls of wires at a time. How could that work ? Cyberpeople were not the sharpest tools in the shed, of course, but surely they could notice what was going on ? This was all far too easy.

And yet the Master had managed to deactivate the chip controller and the native Cybermen were coming, called to arms by their Controller. What was going on ? Was the Master saving the world _again_? Now that was a surprising turn of events – the first time, they understood that he was mainly driven by jealousy but... was his desire for revenge against Cybermen that strong ?

“Run, you bloody imbecile,” snarled the Master while catching their arm to pull them towards the exit. They wouldn't have much time before the native Cybermen swarmed on them.

“The Controller isn't deactivated, there are still Cybermen left !

\- Well, too bad for this planet, but you can't always save the world. Come on !”

The Doctor wanted to protest, they really did – but their injured leg was struggling to carry them and there was still this obsessive thought in their mind. _That was too easy. Far too easy._ Running away did sound like the most reasonable option and so they didn't fight when the Master took hold of the vortex manipulator and teleported them both back to their ships.

  
  


_A happy ending ?_ That, too, made very little sense.

But it was not so happy. Yes, they had made it to safety – but not  _safe and sound._ The blast of an explosion sent the Doctor rolling away and disintegrated most of their eyebrows. The vortex manipulator, handcrafted by a dying Master, had let out its last breath.

The Master's arm was not a pleasant sight. His whole face was a mask of unbearable pain and he could barely speak, although the Doctor managed to make out a few words out of his mumbles – choice words about barbarian technology. They tried to crawl towards him, to  _help,_ but he raised his sound hand to make them stay away.

And when they saw the golden light surrounding him, they understood why.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this whole Cyberman arc was a bit fast... But there's so much more to write and so much more to explain ! I hope you'll enjoy the rest...


	7. Who lives and who dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where regeneration doesn't quite go the way it's supposed to.

The Master slowly got up, visibly disturbed by the recent change in height. He had gained four whole inches in the vertical direction and was quite a bit more muscular than he used to be. Dark hair, angular face – well, his usual genre.

“I wasn't aware you could regenerate,” groaned the Doctor. “Could have done that sooner.

\- As far as I know, I couldn't. This is odd.”

Odd was a bit of an euphemism but the Doctor let it slide. They managed to get up despite the state of their leg and realized how frustrating it was to have to look up to talk to him. That wasn't very usual.

“Putting that aside... How do you feel, Master ?

\- I...”

He remained silent for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out the answer to that very simple question. The result made him frown.

“I feel nothing. I suppose I'm alright since everything's in place but... I don't... feel.”

The Doctor stared at their nemesis, trying to find the slightest bit of mockery on his face or maybe a spark of anger – but nothing. His tone was flat and his face motionless. He didn't feel anything. Neither rage nor pain, neither love nor friendship. Was that the consequence of regenerating right after having been Cyber-converted ? Or just a consequence of all the pain ?

In any case, it was interesting. He should never have been able to regenerate. When the Council loomed him again, they didn't do so with the intention of allowing him to stay alive for very long – just long enough to be their perfect weapon. And yet, here he was, wearing a new face. A rather handsome one.

The Doctor took the bubblemaker out of their pocket. Now was the perfect time to make bubbles and find time to come up with an appropriate answer.

But there was only one possible answer.

“We are done, Master. Try to stay out of trouble. Goodbye.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you noticed that I'm bad at chapter summaries ? Because I have.


	8. Winter in Paris; part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor falls prey to a rather violent existential crisis.

The Master never tried to catch them back, to ask them to stay, to ask them for help. Of course he wouldn't, he never would. At least he was saved, regenerated, not dying anymore. That was enough for the Doctor. They didn't have the energy to handle his lack of emotions, not with their own being so huge and overwhelming.

Right after they took off, their ship had tried to talk to them, to tell them to go back. They had taken an oath, one that they very rarely fulfilled – the oath to protect, to care, to heal. If they didn't do it for the Master, then who for ? What did it all matter that they called themself the Doctor and saved the world over and over again if they weren't here for their best friend, the only one who could truly earn this title ? She screamed and screamed and called for them to react, to do  _something_ , even though she hated the Master. Because the Doctor had to react.

They couldn't. It felt like they couldn't breathe and like their chest had been replaced with a massive hole, filled with darkness and horror. Their throat felt filled with a dark, viscous liquid that was threatening to drown them whole, that was expanding throughout their whole body. The rage was consuming them and leaving them unable to move, to speak, to  _think_ – and nothing could help. Not clenching their teeth or their fists, not yelling, not crying, if they could even do that. So they did the only thing they could think of.

The Doctor, devoured by feelings they weren't used to, decided to get some sleep.

  
  


Travelling the universe didn't have the same perfect taste as it used to. Wonders from afar that used to feel like bathing in glitter and tasting the sunshine now felt like ashes under their tongue.

What was even the point ? Saving the world – ha ! The world didn't want to be saved. The world didn't need to be saved. It had fared well enough when they weren't around and surely it also would when they would be gone. They were utterly useless. Pathetic, worthless, nothing but a pawn in a game that was bigger than them, they were a monster and they would end up alone the way they deserved, just as they were born...

The thoughts wouldn't let go of them. It felt like a voice whispering in their mind over and over again the same words and the same insults. At first, they had tried to drown this feeling of emptiness and hatred in sleep but when their dreams started to take the color of cinders too, they had chosen another poison. Wine.

Wine shared in a clandestine club underneath Paris, 1910, with a beautiful actress whose dark eyes entranced them.

  
  


“ _Sexy, my darling ? Where are you ?_

_\- Lucky !”_ The Doctor's ship vworped in excitement and did the mental equivalent of a happy bounce.  _“I missed you so much ! We're in Paris, 1910. It's so fun. You should see the floods!_

_\- We're going to see them soon. The Master is coming.”_

Sexy let out a gasp. That was the worst news in a long time. The Master showing up while the Doctor was busy flirting with an actress ? That could only result in a disaster. If only she could warn them... But they were too far away and besides, they would never listen. They never did, these days.

“ _Lucky, you can't come. Please, please don't come._

_\- I know, darling, I'm sorry. I don't have a choice. He's not giving me a choice._

_\- Oh dear... oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”_

  
  


 


	9. Winter in Paris; part 2

In the midst of an air filled with alcohol fumes and cigarette smoke, the Doctor suddenly sensed something quite out of place.

The music seemed to fade away and the actress's touch on their arms almost disappeared as their whole attention focused on this sensation. A sensation they had missed and dreaded at the same time. His signature was imprinted on their soul from the first day they had held hands under the burnt orange sky of Gallifrey and although it was faint, they could easily distinguish it from the realities of a world that suddenly didn't seem so pleasant.

They excused themself and ran outside to meet him. Whatever was about to happen did not need to happen in front of a crowd, especially not in a building that could so easily disappear into flames if the Master was in that kind of mood. Better to avoid letting him see them dancing with a girl so little time after this whole Cybermen incident. Even if he still couldn't feel anything, the likeliness of him behaving like a normal person in front of such an obvious provocation was very low.

He looked quite dashing with his cane, his cigarette and the velvet cape on his shoulders and for a moment, the Doctor forgot that they were angry at him. His face was more... standard than it used to be but nevertheless, he was attractive and the Doctor had felt terribly lonely. It did not last long – just a few seconds before the irritating smell of the cigarette reached their nose.

“Good evening, Master. I fear I cannot say that I am pleased to see you.

\- Good evening, Doctor. I'm sorry to hear that, I was rather impatient to meet you again.

\- Really ? I cannot figure out why.”

After all, they had abandoned him right after he regenerated. And he couldn't feel anything – not even impatience – unless something had changed in the meantime.

“Fire.

\- I beg your pardon ?

\- Your name tastes like fire under my tongue. That's why I wanted to see you.”

They could almost feel the fire themself. He had regained some emotions – the Doctor didn't want to know how. But they couldn't afford falling for this again, they couldn't afford being merciful. Not this time. They had let him do as he pleased far too much already and they had let their guard down enough to risk their own sanity by temporarily sharing his mind. No. He was the Master, he killed people, he did whatever he wanted, he made that extremely clear during the Chameleon Arch incident. There was no redemption for him, not from them anyway.

“You should drink water then. There's a flood going on, it might help. Now if you'll excuse me, I would hate to keep my friend waiting. Good night.”

Right before they entered the nightclub again, they could – just barely – hear the Master's reply.

“Oh but Doctor – I want to burn.”

 


	10. Winter in Paris; part 3

It seemed at first that the Master was taking it well. He didn't follow them in, didn't make a fuss, accepted them leaving with a slight smile and a barely audible sentence. Maybe his emotions were still dulled enough that he wasn't going to throw one of his usual tantrums and try to rule the world or something equally as distateful. Even if he tried, he would be frustrated: there were already other monsters on the case. Creatures that provoked the floods to destroy Paris and create enough panic that they would be able to set some kind of transmitter on the Eiffel tower. The Doctor was taking care of it in their free time.

They were enjoying their fourth drink of the night and the actress' luscious eyelashes when a pungent smell overpowered the cigarette fumes. Smoke. Smoke, but not the kind of smoke that came from cheap tobacco, no : the kind that rose when a building was set aflame.

“There's a fire ! Everybody out ! Everybody _out !”_

The crowd started screaming and rushing towards the exits, trampling those who couldn't run fast enough. So human of them. They used to think humans were kind and compassionate but seeing them in a situation of danger was more than sufficient to realize that they were not. They were masters of survival, capable of doing anything if it meant saving their own lives. No wonder the Master hated them... he didn't take so kindly to competition.

They managed to sneak out of the building, their frail build proving very useful once again. People were already gathering outside to fight the fire that had started in nearby bushes, lit up by a cigarette than hadn't been put up properly. _His_ cigarette. That much was obvious. Groaning a few choice words between their teeth, the Doctor set up to help the firefighters, to organize them and prevent them from using the water from the flood. That one was poisoned. The smoke was making it hard to breathe and even see but it seemed like everyone had made it out of the nightclub, safe and sound. Yet the Doctor felt compelled to go back, to check. No one. Just the fire.

For a second or two, they stood at the entrance of the club, staring at the flames. It would have been so easy to just... No. They had to confront the Master and put an end to this. Surely he wouldn't stop at a small fire if his intentions were of that sort.

They joined him on the roof of the nightclub. He was just standing there, watching the crowd fight the fire, another cigarette between his fingers. The Doctor ripped it away from him and crushed under their heel.

“Why on sanity's name would you do such a thing ?

\- You were so cold, I wanted to warm you up a little. Did I overdo it ?

\- Just a tiny bit, yet !” The Doctor scowled, tempted to do something a bit too drastic. “Don't you think I have a few reasons to be cold to you ?

\- You were the one abandoning me, Doctor. I should be the one angry... in fact, I am, thank you.

\- I abandoned you, yes. Perhaps it has a little something to do with the fact you became a Cyberman ruler and tried to convert me ? I don't know, it's usually perceived as a break up move, or maybe do I see things in a very peculiar way.

\- Well, exactly, I _was_ a Cyberman. I wouldn't have done that if I had been normal back then. I tried to kill you many times, but never like this, I would never do that.

\- I love the fact that you highlight your multiple murder attempts on me in your argumentation. Moreover I strongly doubt that you really had no will in all that happened. I dare you to pretend that you were not even the slightest bit enthusiastic when they made you ruler of the Cybermen.

\- What's the point of ruling as an empty shell ?”

They stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out whether he was lying or not. He had a point that ruling as a Cyberman wasn't nearly as satisfying as ruling as himself but then again, perhaps it was good enough ? There was no way of knowing. As usual.

“I cannot trust you. And I couldn't from the start. Still, I was stupid enough to accept this madness. Blame me for being an idiot, not for leaving you, because you did deserve that.

\- I died helping you.

\- No one asked you to go to the Cybercontroller. I could have managed without you. That was your choice.

\- Yes, it was my mess after all... and you didn't have to die because of that.”

Really ? Was he trying to appeal to their feelings, to make them feel grateful for him saving their life ? Well, he didn't. They would have managed without him, in fact everything would have gone far better if he had never showed up. He tried to light another cigarette that they made disappear in the same way they had done the first one.

“Fantastic, you're finally considering that I should not have to die because of you. Oh, wait, maybe is it why you set fire to the street, because it is just so logical.

\- I knew you wouldn't die from this, it's not even that threatening, just a little fire, nothing much.” He sighed then inhaled deeply. “I need you, Doctor. I don't know what I could do if you left again.”

And now he tried to appeal to their pity. Far from making them more compassionate, it just made them angry. The Master, being pathetic like this ? Where was he, the brilliant Time Lord who had worked with Death itself, who never died, who kept on fighting even when the battle was lost ? They simply smirked at him and started to leave.

Their grand exit was stopped short by a tile thrown from the roof on someone's head below them.

“What...” the Doctor muttered before turning around towards the Master, their brow furrowed and their teeth bared. “What did you do that for ?

\- I warned you. You didn't listen.

\- So the idea is to kill people to keep me around ? You think that rampaging this street is a good way to make me want to help you ?”

Their voice had softened to be barely more than a murmure. Cold, so cold, in the midst of a fire. If their name tasted like flames, their voice was made of ice.

“Rampaging is the problem. I can't stop. I can't control it.

\- You could always stop. Don't hide behind false excuses... Or perhaps have you become  _weak ?_ ”

The Master's gaze didn't falter as he answered.

“Perhaps.”

 


	11. Stories in the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master answers some questions about his state and the Doctor attempts to help him.

The Doctor's anger had deflated at this comment. The Master never admitted to weakness – not this way. Not so calmly and without any foreseeable agenda. Without witness, without reward.

They had agreed to follow him back to the ships but only after making sure that the fire situation was under control. No casualties. He had said it was just a small fire and he had been right, but still. Still they couldn't shake the dread that filled them thinking of how casually he had killed right in front their eyes, as if begging for them to interfere. The Master didn't do that. He didn't beg.

This new version of him seemed to enjoy heights and chose to go back to the ships by walking from roof to roof. Paris was a crowded enough city that it worked and the Doctor followed suit, although not very eager to repeat the pink gloves experience. Heights were definitely not their thing but they'd rather not risk losing him. Who knew what this odd new incarnation would do if left alone... Smoking, probably. He'd have to get rid of that nasty habit if he ever hoped for another kiss.

Lucky was parked neatly right next to the Doctor's ship. In another bout of recklessness, they consented to share a warm drink with him in _his_ ship. Consenting to a conversation on his territory spelled trouble. Trouble that smelled good – he made the best hot cocoa with a pinch of cinnamon and an absurd amount of cream and didn't even mock their childish taste.

“I can feel some emotions now,” explained the Master once they were both settled at a table with their drinks. “But it's still... wrong. It's even worse than agonizing slowly.”

He tried to drown the unusual sincerity of his words in his cup of coffee. The Doctor didn't comment, staring at him over their hot cocoa and trying to figure out how to drink the humongous thing without getting any cream on their nose. For a while, the world stood still as two old enemies shared a hot drink on the fine line between war and peace. They had been doing this dance together for eons now and each time the Doctor had thought it could be the finale, something new happened, something they hadn't been able to predict. What would it be this time ?

“I won't force you to come back, if that's what worries you, Doctor.

\- Come back to _what_?” They knew that it was cruel to deny everything that went untold in such a brash way. They didn't care. “And you _can't_ force me to do anything. You've tried and failed, multiple times.

\- Then don't help me. Kill me and be done with it. It's what you want, right ? It would save many lives.

\- I still care about yours too much.” And it was painfully true. “Now tell me what happened since you left.”

Without reacting to what they had said, he told the tales of numerous battles. The crusades, where he became a hero, and many, many other wars in which he had become known as a glorious figure, a war machine. The Time Lords were finally being granted their wish of having a perfect war machine. The Master without his cravings, without his need for attention, was just that. A machine.

The damage that the Council had done to him when they had loomed him again for the Time War was still very much present – but differently. There was no hysteria, no jumping around, no silly faces to punctuate his every sentence. Somehow, the Doctor had preferred this previous version that acted so unlike the Master they had known, because he made it obvious that something was wrong. Something clear as day, something that made sense. Never before had he been so grossly misogynistic and racist for no other reason than... the evil of it, they presumed ? So the Saxon incarnation and his indiscriminate hatred of everything that wasn't him could be somewhat understood. It had taken them a bit of time before figuring out what was wrong in him.

But now... now this new Master, all lost in his feelings, admitting weakness and _begging?_ Begging for their help in words untold? It was like... healing from whatever had turned him into the violent maniac that brought the Master race into existence then losing all of his emotions had made him incredibly vulnerable. He would never have admitted such a thing and yet his silences did it better than any words.

So in an attempt to soothe him, the Doctor told him stories. Stories of a past long forgotten under the skies of Gallifrey, of a friendship that was doomed from the start but blossoming so beautifully. They tried to remind him of happier times to make him _feel_ again, feel something other than anger and hatred. Their own rage was swept away by their friend's vulnerability and by the overwhelming need to take care of him, to help him as he had helped them when they first crashed at his feet, without even knowing he was doing it. He had been here when they needed a presence, he had let them sleep close to him when they needed the warmth of another living being. They were willing to overlook his little slip-up.

As the night progressed, the Doctor warmed up to the Master's presence. He was not quite yet forgiven and perhaps that would take decades more but at least, they accepted his touch, even his kiss despite the scent of tobacco. For the first time since his death, the Master felt something that wasn't rage nor even violent, something sweet that tasted slightly like vanilla and smelled like honey.

The dawn found them both snuggled up in bed, fast asleep. The french actress was completely forgotten.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still suck at summaries why do I keep trying


	12. Chapter 12

There were more pleasant times afterwards.

The Doctor ran away again in the morning shortly before the Master woke up, to attend Woodstock. Kites, rock music, and plenty of alcohol was exactly what they had needed to feel better about not keeping the Master from doing harm... and about everything else. He had killed someone and yet they had fallen asleep in his arms at the end of the day, giving him exactly what he had wanted. Was that his new method for manipulating them? If such was the case he had found the right way at last – but they didn't like the idea so much. Besides, he wasn't one to fake vulnerability, not this way. The questions and worries had turned in their mind so much that they had chosen to get drunker than they'd ever been, perhaps get a taste of acid and mushrooms, and not sleep for the entire festival. That had sounded like a reasonable plan.

When they had come back to their ship, it was to find a message from Lucky warning them that the Master had taken over an entire solar system in the Scorpio constellation.

They had saved the world once again despite the presence of an entire planet turned into a literal fanclub of the Master. No brainwashing, no nothing, the people on this tiny rock were just oddly devoted to their ruler and refused to let go of him. The fact that the person trying to “save” them was only wearing a towel around their hips, a flower crown in their hair and heart-shaped sunglasses hadn't exactly helped and in fact, the fan planet only consented to listen to them when they mentioned their relationship (without precising what kind of relationship it was exactly) with the Master.

In the end, the Doctor had agreed to let the Master have his “fan-planet” ; not that they could have done anything against it anyways, since the inhabitants of this planet were so adamant to stick with him. He wasn't doing them any harm as they weren't resisting – the other planets of the galaxy hadn't been so lucky. The Master had recorded 1768.3 deaths, although he had no idea where the 0.3 came from.

They settled the whole dispute in Buenos Aires, 1920. The Doctor had always wanted to learn how to tango.

  
  


“ _Are we back together?”_

The Master had asked this question after a long night spent drinking and dancing tango, holding the Doctor in his arms while they were resting together on the couch. The Doctor hadn't been able to say no.

  
  


“Come on! It will be _fun!_

\- Aren't you afraid that I will kill people there ?

\- You're doing better. Besides, why would you kill people at a rock concert ?”

The Master shrugged, as if to say there were millions of reasons that could happen. Still he indulged: the Doctor wanted to go to a rock concert and to go with him. They had stayed so close to him, helped him regain his emotions and their help had been invaluable. Surely he could do that little thing for them. It wasn't as entertaining as dancing so close to them and holding them close or fighting with them for the domination of yet another planet but he could find some enjoyment in this concert thing, probably.

“What's so special about _The Sonics_ in 66 anyway ?

\- You'll see,” cheered the Doctor while dancing around the console of their ship.

Their smile widened just a bit, just a tiny bit too much, but the Master didn't notice. He couldn't notice the painful truth glaring at him so obviously.

“Believe me Master... it will be spectacular.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start by thanking everyone who took the time to read so far and especially those who left kudos and comments. You're all amazing and I hope you'll stay tuned for the next part, because this is where it gets interesting...   
> See you tomorrow for a brand new episode of "the Doctor and the Master are really in trouble".


End file.
